Desiderata
-- written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s --
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
-- written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s --
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Beau Eckland was larger than life. He was a big man with a big soul and a big heart. Beau and I met many years ago while working in Lancashire. He was my consultant. I had whined about a different consultant's attitude when he had upset one of my patients. Beau essentially told me to shut up, be quiet and do my job and quit the temptation to fight in battles that cannot be won. Beau was right because he always wanted to protect me.
Six months later the Spanish consultant from hell was struck off the General Medical Council's Register following various other complaints. I showed Beau the copy GMC Today that quoted the case. We both sat there and thought that sometimes fate is a strange thing. One doesn't even have to try to direct karma, it just happens.
Beau and I remained very good friends. The most surreal picture of both of us is with Beau and I fighting over the large amounts of freebees in the Lilly Rep's car boot. Lilly is a drug company which manufactures a drug called Olanzapine. Lilly spends its entire life trying to tell us all that patients don't get fat on it - actually they do.
Anyway, on that day, Eckland and I were scavengers. We were in the Blackpool Royal Infirmary car park bagging the gifts from the wise man of the esteemed drug company. It was shared loot. Eckland always got the good pens. It was so frustrating. Eckland always used the trick of tickling me so that I couldn't reach for the best bits of the freebees - I was always after the glassy pens. In trying to reach them that day, I practically fell into the Lilly rep's boot. Eckland was insistent that if I fell in, he would take a picture of my M and S opaque tighted legs and plaster it on the doctor's mess so I would never live it down. Such a wicked wicked man with no shame!
It is a load of rubbish to suggest that we were persuaded into prescribing the drug. We weren't interested in the drug - we were interested in free stuff. It was a bit like the days of the fabulous Viagra pens. Yes, we all had them, all the surgeons had them and even those who didn't have any testosterone had them. Eckland and I intently listened to the bullshit given to us by various drug companies for one aim only - to get the freebees. When it came to clinical management, we did what was best for the patient. Long gone are the days of freebees but it was fun then. It was just fun to eat drug company food, whip their goods and have endless supplies of post-it notes. We both figured, drug companies were rich, we weren't so we called it "equalising profits". My supply of post-it notes have lasted me to this day.
Beau was and always will be one of the best doctors I have ever worked with. His clinical management was extraordinary. He spoke with an Australian twang. He loved food, he loved life and he loved living.
Beau had developed health problems earlier this year when he ended up in hospital. He came out shocked at the treatment of patients in the NHS. He told me " They are f**** killing em Reets". He had essentially worked so hard that everyone had forgotten to take care of him. Indeed, he had forgotten to take care of himself. The hundreds of patients he cared for were never there for him. And this is the fate of sick doctors. They become a nameless grave. All their good work is never remembered but remain as fragments of memories locked in the patients' minds.
Eckland used to tell me that he felt trapped by many things over the years. He simply wanted to be free on a sandy beach and at peace. He wanted to lie flat and watch the blue skies and think of nothing but the beautiful world we all lived in. I suppose he got his wish. Beau became difficult to deal with, he refused help, he refused everything. He would ring me and tell me he was dying but refused to see me. His dislike of everything wrong in life appeared to take over - because illness makes doctors weak. Eckland wanted kindness but failed to accept it. I was essentially helpless and this worried me day by day. I was terrified that one day he would never ring again.
A few months ago, Beau Eckland was found dead in his hospital room by the police. He had died while oncall. His wife called me a week later. I should have attended the funeral but I just didn't like the thought of remembering Beau as a dead man. Funerals for me are such fake places where some pretend to mourn the loss of their loved one. They say what a lovely person the deceased was but were never there when the person was a living being. I have attended many funerals like that. I often sit and watch the many people pay their respects. As if the dead care about who attends their funeral. I am sure Beau was away somewhere having fun than watching the crocodile tears of those who see funerals as a way to purge their consciences.
For me Beau was never dead, he was alive in his spirit, in his laughter and in all the things in the world that I remember him by. Eckland was also prepared to write me a reference for the General Medical Council court hearing while he was ill in hospital. Beau never liked the GMC and always said that as doctors we were all fighting a losing battle. I told him that that organisation had no meaning in my life. What bothered me was their failure in cases causing untold damage to those who could not cope with them, There were far far more important things than them.
I went into court in 2009 essentially with no backup because out of the world of people I had known or helped, only Beau Eckland was prepared to stand by me - only Beau as a doctor was prepared to say " My name is Dr Beau Eckland and I am a friend and colleague of Dr Rita Pal". And this meant a great deal to me. It meant so much to me that I would never have allowed him to risk himself for me. I stopped him in his tracks and told him that under no circumstances was he going to align himself with me and place himself in jeopardy.
To me, his offer was real friendship - those who have the courage to stand by their medical friends. During my court hearing in 2009, many many people had pulled out then as Beau said, if they don't want to protect their future, stuff em. He was of course right about that and about many things. One cannot force the population of doctors to understand that they are essentially sitting ducks and that the GMC case I was involved in shows us all what a disastrous situation the current regulatory system is in. Essentially, it is much like a time bomb waiting to happen where innocent doctors will be destroyed. As Beau said, doctors have to accept the path they opt for. To some extent, that is true.
Beau always told me that no one would ever miss him and that the entire world always wanted something from him. He had three wives in total and it amazed me how he married so many. He felt like a Money Making Machine.
Beau was a simple man, all he was ever looking for was kindness. As he pointed out to me, there is little kindness in the world. Beau though was a kind and generous man. He was there for everyone but in the end no one was there for him - not even me. Dr Eckland though was a complex man who towards the end of his life just remained a voice on the telephone because for once he refused to meet me - not the other way around.
Anyhow, the above poem was given to me by Beau Eckland a few weeks after we first met. It teaches us many things about the world we live in. Most of all, it teaches us about leading a different kind of life. I am honoured to have known Beau Eckland and even though he always bagged the plush Olanzapine pens, he gave me more than that - he gave me true friendship that is extremely rare in a medical world full of superficial arrogance. I don't believe the medical world knows how to care. They do though know how to be doctors. Because for many, the title is far more important than the concept.
I miss Beau Eckland but in time we all learn to refill that vacuum with all the memories our friends leave us with. Eckland was a very special individual - I wish he had felt that himself while he lived.
Anyhow, if there is a life after death, I am sure he will be in Australia drinking a beer. I am also quite positive that should I meet him one day, he will be buying me that beer. It should of course be a Castlemaine XXXX.
Written in memory of Dr Beau Eckland, a good friend and colleague.
Six months later the Spanish consultant from hell was struck off the General Medical Council's Register following various other complaints. I showed Beau the copy GMC Today that quoted the case. We both sat there and thought that sometimes fate is a strange thing. One doesn't even have to try to direct karma, it just happens.
Beau and I remained very good friends. The most surreal picture of both of us is with Beau and I fighting over the large amounts of freebees in the Lilly Rep's car boot. Lilly is a drug company which manufactures a drug called Olanzapine. Lilly spends its entire life trying to tell us all that patients don't get fat on it - actually they do.
Anyway, on that day, Eckland and I were scavengers. We were in the Blackpool Royal Infirmary car park bagging the gifts from the wise man of the esteemed drug company. It was shared loot. Eckland always got the good pens. It was so frustrating. Eckland always used the trick of tickling me so that I couldn't reach for the best bits of the freebees - I was always after the glassy pens. In trying to reach them that day, I practically fell into the Lilly rep's boot. Eckland was insistent that if I fell in, he would take a picture of my M and S opaque tighted legs and plaster it on the doctor's mess so I would never live it down. Such a wicked wicked man with no shame!
It is a load of rubbish to suggest that we were persuaded into prescribing the drug. We weren't interested in the drug - we were interested in free stuff. It was a bit like the days of the fabulous Viagra pens. Yes, we all had them, all the surgeons had them and even those who didn't have any testosterone had them. Eckland and I intently listened to the bullshit given to us by various drug companies for one aim only - to get the freebees. When it came to clinical management, we did what was best for the patient. Long gone are the days of freebees but it was fun then. It was just fun to eat drug company food, whip their goods and have endless supplies of post-it notes. We both figured, drug companies were rich, we weren't so we called it "equalising profits". My supply of post-it notes have lasted me to this day.
Beau was and always will be one of the best doctors I have ever worked with. His clinical management was extraordinary. He spoke with an Australian twang. He loved food, he loved life and he loved living.
Beau had developed health problems earlier this year when he ended up in hospital. He came out shocked at the treatment of patients in the NHS. He told me " They are f**** killing em Reets". He had essentially worked so hard that everyone had forgotten to take care of him. Indeed, he had forgotten to take care of himself. The hundreds of patients he cared for were never there for him. And this is the fate of sick doctors. They become a nameless grave. All their good work is never remembered but remain as fragments of memories locked in the patients' minds.
Eckland used to tell me that he felt trapped by many things over the years. He simply wanted to be free on a sandy beach and at peace. He wanted to lie flat and watch the blue skies and think of nothing but the beautiful world we all lived in. I suppose he got his wish. Beau became difficult to deal with, he refused help, he refused everything. He would ring me and tell me he was dying but refused to see me. His dislike of everything wrong in life appeared to take over - because illness makes doctors weak. Eckland wanted kindness but failed to accept it. I was essentially helpless and this worried me day by day. I was terrified that one day he would never ring again.
A few months ago, Beau Eckland was found dead in his hospital room by the police. He had died while oncall. His wife called me a week later. I should have attended the funeral but I just didn't like the thought of remembering Beau as a dead man. Funerals for me are such fake places where some pretend to mourn the loss of their loved one. They say what a lovely person the deceased was but were never there when the person was a living being. I have attended many funerals like that. I often sit and watch the many people pay their respects. As if the dead care about who attends their funeral. I am sure Beau was away somewhere having fun than watching the crocodile tears of those who see funerals as a way to purge their consciences.
For me Beau was never dead, he was alive in his spirit, in his laughter and in all the things in the world that I remember him by. Eckland was also prepared to write me a reference for the General Medical Council court hearing while he was ill in hospital. Beau never liked the GMC and always said that as doctors we were all fighting a losing battle. I told him that that organisation had no meaning in my life. What bothered me was their failure in cases causing untold damage to those who could not cope with them, There were far far more important things than them.
I went into court in 2009 essentially with no backup because out of the world of people I had known or helped, only Beau Eckland was prepared to stand by me - only Beau as a doctor was prepared to say " My name is Dr Beau Eckland and I am a friend and colleague of Dr Rita Pal". And this meant a great deal to me. It meant so much to me that I would never have allowed him to risk himself for me. I stopped him in his tracks and told him that under no circumstances was he going to align himself with me and place himself in jeopardy.
To me, his offer was real friendship - those who have the courage to stand by their medical friends. During my court hearing in 2009, many many people had pulled out then as Beau said, if they don't want to protect their future, stuff em. He was of course right about that and about many things. One cannot force the population of doctors to understand that they are essentially sitting ducks and that the GMC case I was involved in shows us all what a disastrous situation the current regulatory system is in. Essentially, it is much like a time bomb waiting to happen where innocent doctors will be destroyed. As Beau said, doctors have to accept the path they opt for. To some extent, that is true.
Beau always told me that no one would ever miss him and that the entire world always wanted something from him. He had three wives in total and it amazed me how he married so many. He felt like a Money Making Machine.
Beau was a simple man, all he was ever looking for was kindness. As he pointed out to me, there is little kindness in the world. Beau though was a kind and generous man. He was there for everyone but in the end no one was there for him - not even me. Dr Eckland though was a complex man who towards the end of his life just remained a voice on the telephone because for once he refused to meet me - not the other way around.
Anyhow, the above poem was given to me by Beau Eckland a few weeks after we first met. It teaches us many things about the world we live in. Most of all, it teaches us about leading a different kind of life. I am honoured to have known Beau Eckland and even though he always bagged the plush Olanzapine pens, he gave me more than that - he gave me true friendship that is extremely rare in a medical world full of superficial arrogance. I don't believe the medical world knows how to care. They do though know how to be doctors. Because for many, the title is far more important than the concept.
I miss Beau Eckland but in time we all learn to refill that vacuum with all the memories our friends leave us with. Eckland was a very special individual - I wish he had felt that himself while he lived.
Anyhow, if there is a life after death, I am sure he will be in Australia drinking a beer. I am also quite positive that should I meet him one day, he will be buying me that beer. It should of course be a Castlemaine XXXX.
Written in memory of Dr Beau Eckland, a good friend and colleague.
5 comments:
A superb post, Rita.
The Wounded Healer: so complex. Could it be that Eckland was a wound waiting to happen; that his script was already written; that, in being programmed to always give, he missed the importance of receiving; and that, in practical terms, he failed to "look after the machine"?
The other just as strong theme in this post is about the nature of friendship. You and Helen Bright know only too well how friends fade away like ghouls in the night when the going gets tough. It is then that you learn who your real friends are, and who were the easy-riders, happy enough to tag along in the good times, but never there when the road became treacherous.
But there is a positive side to that: those who do remain have stood the test and not been found wanting. They are true friends - and that is something worth knowing.
A beautiful tribute to somone who was obviously a loyal and true friend to you. It is important to remember in our hearts those we have lost. It is to me; a Godless man, the only true epitaph to my many friends cut off before they achieved what they might.
He failed in one respect that I too failed and perhaps still am failing; the need to be compassionate to yourself. I hope, even at my great age to learn that lesson and that is not too late to apply it to my life. You must learn that lesson and take time to remember to love yourself, as well as others and the great cause for which you fight. I am sure that is what Beau would want and certainly myself and many others.
I hope he has found his sandy beach and liberal supplies of 4X (and not the one brewed in Watford).
Thanks for that babe. I am sorry I am so delayed in responding to mail. Trying desperately to recover back to four cylinder mode. Taking some effort with mental stamina here.
You are right about Beau in many ways. I know you have always stood by HB and we should all stand by our friends. That was how I was brought up anyway - it is probably one of the reasons I regret wasting my time on such vacant people - and in medicine we find all kinds of vacant people but in the UK particularly being in the company of wolves - opps doctors is much like some kind of cockerel competition. I often prefer to be around normal people who say normal things about the normal world we live in.
I found something that Beau had given me before his death and hence I wrote the post. Bet he got cremated with his glassy Olanzapine pens that eluded me for 5 years!
He asked me to throw a rose in the river for him. I still have not managed to find the nicest single white rose. When I do, I shall go down to the river and pay my last respects until he buys me a beer.
RP
Beau was a good friend to me too. I was a Locum Consultant Psychiatrist in the same hospital in Derby. He had one of the worst jobs there with enormous workload. His friendliness was extraordinary and he would do the right thing regardless of personal dangers. His career was not the first thing but people.
The last time we spoke he wanted to do things for me even I did not call him because of that. I wanted to know how he was. He felt it was wrong for him to talk about himself so much and was a bit irritable. Used to giving by generous nature he left without really knowing how much we liked him.
I only found out today at work the sad news that Dr Eckland has passed away. This afternoon, before I left work for home, I called him to say hello and have a quick chat before Christmas, as I have not heard from him for quite a while. There was no answer. Thinking he might have changed his number, I sent an email wishing him and his family a happy Christmas. My email never reached him. I then searched his name on the Net and found Dr Pal's post.
Dr Eckland was my consultant and although I had only worked with him briefly for a couple of months in Devon, he was always there for me. I very much appreciated his support as I was in the process of re-locating to the North West and was going through difficult times being away from my family. He was always eager share his vast amount of knowledge and expertise. Even after I left Devon, he continued to send me materials on the new MHA.
The last email I received from him on June 26, 2009 read 'dear stranger, out of sight out of mind. beau.' I felt bad as although I promised, I had not been in touch with him for a long time. In one his emails he said he very much missed our interactions in Devon and that he had every confidence in me passing my exams. Dr Eckland, I very much miss working with you too.
He always asked me to call him by his first name, but I told him I would not do that, as I had so much respect for him.
Dear Dr Eckland, the world is a poorer place without you. May you rest in peace.
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